


The Nightingale and The Lark

by Diana_Munroe



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Munroe/pseuds/Diana_Munroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity have a post-coital discussion that over 400 years old, but is oh-so-fitting to their night in Nanda Parbt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightingale and The Lark

Felicity drew lazy circles around Oliver’s chest with her fingernail. In the last two hours, she and Oliver had fallen into a pattern of making love, resting and whispering their love for each other into the night air. A look of stunned awe crossed Oliver’s face every time those precious three words crossed her lips. It broke her heart to realize that somewhere, not so deep down, Oliver still didn’t believe that someone could truly love him despite his scars, mistakes and the things he had to do to survive. Oliver touched her like she would float away if he didn’t hold her tight enough, but also gently like she would break if his hands used too much pressure. He worshipped her with a passion that was only matched by her willingness to cherish all that he had to give. 

Now at rest, Felicity couldn’t help, but think of the future and the limited time they had to be together before The League claimed Oliver as one of their own. She, who never lacked for words, found her mind drifting to old words, seemingly ancient words that she had memorized long ago. The words slipped from her mouth gently into the cool desert air, not really meant for anyone’s ears save her own, but needing to be spoken just the same. 

“Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.  
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,  
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.  
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree.  
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale,” Felicity whispered. 

Above her, a low rumble responded, “It was the lark.”  
Shocked, Felicity lifted her upper body up to look at Oliver’s blue eyes as he continued, “The herald of the morn. Not the nightingale.” 

With a measure of surprise in her voice, she continued this surreal 400 year old conversation between lovers, “Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I.  
It is some meteor that the sun exhales  
To be to thee this night a torchbearer,  
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.” 

She stroked his face with one finger and then followed it with her eyes as her finger grazed across his chest. Again, she said the next words in a whisper to herself although she knew he heard every word. 

“Therefore stay yet. Thou need’st not to be gone.”

Oliver caught her finger and then reached up with his other hand, gently stroking her cheek. His eyes beheld her, his love, his precious, dear one as he uttered the next words and infused them with the emotion and depth of their current situation.  
“Let me be ta’en. Let me be put to death,” he whispered, knowing Felicity would never allow his death if she could prevent it. He reached up and kissed her. He let the memory of their lovemaking wash over him and the present feeling of Felicity in his arms fill his being.

“I am content,” he breathed out, speaking for himself in those three words, “ For thou wilt have it so. I have more care to stay, than will to go. Come death and welcome! Juliet will it so. Let’s talk. It is not yet day.” 

Felicity kissed him back, “I thought they didn’t cover Shakespeare in any of the four colleges you dropped out of.” 

“They didn’t. Thea was Juliet for her middle school play. I was on house arrest and Raisa convinced me to use the time to actually be a good big brother and help her with her lines.” 

Felicity smiled. 

“That’s sweet,” she said and then a tell-tale worry line creased her forehead, “I don’t—“

Oliver silenced her with a warm, passion-inducing kiss. He pulled away just slightly to speak.

“Let’s talk. It is not yet day,” he repeated. 

Felicity nodded. 

“Ok,” she said and kissed him back. The night was still theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Stephen Amell once made a comment about Oliver and Felicity being star-crossed lovers and... well, the "second balcony scene" seemed so fitting. Check up on your Romeo and Juliet and you won't be sorry. Here's the No, Fear Shakespeare version if you need the translation http://nfs.sparknotes.com/romeojuliet/page_186.html
> 
> Also, Oliver's lines are shorter because I figure in the middle school version of Romeo and Juliet, they cut a few lines out.


End file.
